The Sounds of Silence
by Helena Key
Summary: Post-Thor. After falling from the Bifrost, Loki finds himself trapped in the Void, a dark and silent place where the channels of time converge. Trying to escape, Loki stumbles upon one of these channels and is sent to a battlefield in Midgard, during World War II. Thor/Indiana Jones croossover. FrostRapier [Loki x Irina Spalko].
1. Pilot

**The Sounds of Silence**

**Pilot**

The Asgardian warriors were convinced that in the afterlife the soul was separated from the body, and was guided for the Valquirias to the beautiful, majestic lounge of the Valhalla. There, where the stars are brighter than the sun, and your fallen comrades come along to join you in magnificent, never endless feats. They fantasized with an existence consume in eternal happiness, always distinguished by the total lack of pain and sorrow.

For them, the demise often seemed more attractive than life itself.

But Loki, who was prone to more sinister thoughts, had never being such a enthusiastic when it came to talk about death. He had always think in the end of the existence like something cold and dark, girded by an almost claustrophobic silence. He imagined loneliness, and confusion and fear, all mingled together in a illusion of blindness that would eventually make you go round the bend.

Maybe, he had thought that because the image of total blackness and confined spaces had always frightened him. Because with time, the closure of all thinking and reasoning has become his greatest fears. But now, that Loki was facing the inevitable end, he could say, with a bitter smile in his face, that he has been right. Death was, in the end of it, just a deep, large pool of gloominess.

The first thing Loki wondered when he find himself trapped in the Nothing, was how long would it take to his soul to slowly fall apart.

Some sort of heavenly darkness had surrounded all his being, embracing him in the empty quietness of silence. All the world had finally go away, leaving behind just blurry, shadowy memories. He had lost the power to open his eyes and part his lips. To nervously move his fingertips across the cold rugged floor where he lay. All he could do was stay there, starring at the infinite blackness of the Void.

With time, he knew, his ability to ponder would fade away along with his motor skills. He would turn into a fearful, immovable corpus, unable to reflect or feel, to cry, hate or love. Maybe, he must have feel scared by the idea of such a disgraceful end. The idea of becoming in such a numb, irrational beast, should have terrified him. But trapped in that dark daydream, completely isolate of the world he had once know, Loki has been reached by a strange feeling of emptiness, that allow no pain, fear or guilt to disturb him. And he embraced it, almost with relief, free of all the dark thoughts that had sifting over him during his life, impatiently waiting for the demise of his conscience.

For a single moment, seduced by the orchestral sound of the silence and the disturbing numbness of his own heart, Loki decided not to think anymore and surrender to the darkness, becoming one with the vacuum. And being there, feeling free of the bittersweet taste that had hitherto defined his entire existence, having lost all that once had reminding him he was still alive, he could have say with everything to gain that he was finally _dead. _

Then, suddenly, he start to feel a little tingle in his toes. All his body, trapped in a weary slumber, began to shake, and Loki, surprised by the now unfamiliar sensation, tried to gingerly move his feet. Soon, the little tingle became in slight stitches that slowly start to climb through his calves and knees, turning into strong pangs in his thighs. He sat down and embrace himself, suddenly aware of the wave of coldness that ran through his body.

The stitches become more and more strong, and knowing that the pain would not go away until he started to move, Loki get on his feet, with just a little hesitation. The world around him was still black, silent, and unmoving. He shivered, and rubbing his hands against his arms, trying to warm his body, he started to walk. Then, when he had just given five steps forwards, he stood, listening carefully to the vacuum around him. When silence was the only response, he roughly hit the ground with one of his feet, and wait for the sound of the coup. Nothing happened, and he swallowed.

Loki muttered his name in the darkness, testing again, but the sound of his voice never arrived. He bite his lower lip, and began to feel the sensation of claustrophobia coming back to him. He breathed deeply, and with a shaking voice and a violent gesture, he screamed his name at the top of his lungs, and again, he just meet the muteness.

He gazed the world around him, expectation filling his deep, green eyes. Nothing changed. The Void was silent, and don´t even the loudest scream of agony would have interrupted his quietness. The feeling of emptiness, that had clouded his mind when he had first awake, was gone. Everything became more clearer, and at the same time, most difficult to process. The whole world -life itself- had just disappeared from sight, like if all of it had just been a deceitful illusion. But in this wicked mirage of Ragnarok, his mind, body and soul remained together, and he just couldn't understand _why_.

He chucked, then.

Now he knew he was not dead. A dead man would have not be able to ponder about his own condition, his feelings or his thoughts. He would not be able to stand up, to walk blindly in the dark, or scream in frustration. And at the meeting with oblivion, he would not have feel numb, confused or scared. A dead man couldn't be capable to mourn himself in the lowest degrees of self pity.

A sad, twisted smirk appeared on his face, and Loki let out a convulsed, almost hysterical laugh, that was never to be heard. His misleading words have faded away within the aphasia. His silvertongue had been cut. Been there, trapped in the loneliness of isolation, with no one to deceive, and no one to play a prank, his wicked games were little more than vain. It was a well suited punishment for a trickster.

Loki was not prone to sarcastic comments. Being the deceiver he was, he knew that such a sardonic language was the most pretentious way to left lies uncovered. However, he knew about irony, and he could laugh at it, even in the most distressing moments. Suddenly, Make fun of his own misery seemed like the most appropriated thing to do. His laughter, however, so painful and mute as it was, became more slow and soft, when a little glow on the middle of the blackness called his attention.

In the beginning it was just a tiny spark, floating over his head. The light was faint and flickering, like if it was afraid of the darkness that surrounded her, and was trying to hide himself from his touch. He tried to stare at the strange anomaly, but his vision, so used to the murkiness by now, went dizzy. He blinked a few times, trying to accustom his eyes to the sudden clarity, and then, when he was able to look again, the tiny spark had became in two.

He reached out and tried to touch the strange glitter, but it fell apart between his trembling fingers. Now there were tree tiny sparks in front of him. They were warm, and soft in sight. Somehow, Loki find them soothing. He shivered again, and an unfamiliar feeling of nostalgia fell upon his chest. He stared at the lights without really looking at them; his eyes were unfocused, and his vision was blurry again. He felt strangely calm and relief. His muscles, that had been tense and shivering all the while, were now relaxed and sleepy.

He feel like if he was ready for something, but he did not know exactly for what. But the lights where growing in size, becoming more bright and shining, consuming the darkness. And all Loki could do was look at them in silent admiration, as they built large staggering channels of flowing glitter around him. He couldn´t think straight, everything seemed too surreal. He don´t even get to realize when took a step forward, sinking in the channels of lights that were pounding around him like a living pulse. Everything went blank, and the last thing he could register, before lose consciousness, was the sudden, frightening feeling of _falling. _

*_._.-._._*

The sounds of noise, startling as they were, awoke Loki from his weary slumber, that had keep him from opening his eyes at the bright, glowing flashes behind his closed eyelids. The anguished, breathtaking darkness that had surrounded him before had finally disappeared, and now the shinning, colorful world around him seemed foreign and surreal. His limbs were numb, once again, and his entire body felt unnaturally light. There was a curious, uninterrupted buzzing in his head that didn´t let him think straight.

It was a cloudless blue sky the one that loomed over his head. Its bluish tingle was furrowed by a blurry and wild color green, and Loki, wandering between hallucinations, asked himself where it would come such a strange, _unnatural _hue. Later, when his thoughts become more lucid and his vision went clearer, he would recognize the same green in the treetops that towered over him. He remembered Alfheim, then, and the towering trees that grow in those deep forest of evergreen leaves. A place were green was a reminder of life, and it prospered between the nature in a inbred way. Loki, among groans of pain and failed intents to sat up, managed to laugh at the thought.

He had always thought Alfheim was a strange place, but now, submerged in the dead silence of his surroundings, with no sigh of life anywhere nearby, he believed that it was a good place to die. In that precise moment Loki didn´t feel pain, and he could tell, even in that light-headed state, that he wasn´t injured. But he felt _weak, _unable to move, to think straight, or to breath properly. He had lost the control of his motor skills, and now, he was trapped in his own body. And the world around him was cold, unoccupied and silent; sunk in a cautious tension that he had only meet in the heat of battle. And he was not scared, or disappointed, because while Loki was trapped in the never-ending darkness, he had became accustom to the idea of dying_, _and the expectations of death were a thought difficult to remove.

Then, a movement in the bushes caught his attention, and his dark reflections were forgotten when the startling sound of voices and the unfamiliar howl of an unknown animal came to his ears. He frowned. Somewhere nearby a dog was barking, and he could tell, or at least sense, that the can was being followed by two persons. At the beginning he couldn´t understand what was happening; all that time he had feel catched in sometime of daydream, where only he and his mind could converge. So, when a caught a glimpse of two men staring down at him, brow furrowed in confusion, he had almost expect them to go. To abandon him in the depths of the forest, to leave him to _die alone_.

They weren't Elves. They were too undaunted, to roughs to be elves. But they had deep, beautiful blue eyes that had suddenly caught him in a dizzy spell. There was something imposing, even frightening in their frame, and their gray uniforms and their metal hulls make him think in midgardian soldiers. He went still at the thought, but the strong, deep voices of the two mans, speaking a rough language that he couldn't understand, didn´t let him delve in it. His vision was narrowing, growing fuzzier. Suddenly lightheaded, Loki felt the world fade around him.


	2. Soviet Campfire

**The Sounds of Silence**

**Chapter 1**

Behind the towering pine groves that crowned the East Mountain´s summit, the moon moved smoothly, reflecting off in the thick snow that the late winter had left behind. It´s light glowed in the darkness of the night, driving away the ghostly frame that loomed over the valley and far away from Leningrad's fields. The owls hooted between the branches of the pines that, still covered with a thin winter frost, were led astray by the forces of the winds.

The warmth of spring had not yet reached those dreary lands. The travelers and explorers who wandered through its forests, back in the hot summer days, had left in the first months of winter, chased away by the thin ice and the stormy blizzards. The birds had migrated to warmer climates, and bears and panthers were still in their long winter slumber. Only the bravest vermins ventured out to face the dead silence of the Russian tundra – owls, opossums and foxes seemed to be the only sigh of life in that desolate wasteland. There was life there, however. Human life. And in such circumstances, that seemed to be quite a challenge.

Somewhere in that snowy immensity, a soviet campfire had been settled. In the last few weeks the weather had covered the 25 tents occupied by the 103 division with a thick layer of snow. That night the common soldiers, -who unlike their superiors, passed their nights in scratchy sleeping bags, wrapped in old grey blankets that didn't shelter them from the coldness of winter- kindled a fire that now viciously crackled in the center of the encampment. There, trying to forget the numbness that overcomes the cold within the low temperature, gave rise a curious conversation that was spoken in Russian words, but that in English would have been more or less like this:

"I cannot believe that spring is already coming." Berlioz murmured, who had been impetuously rubbing his hands, trying to warm up his trembling fingers. "If the weather does not change anytime soon, we´ll all die frozen." He spat with frustration.

"Well, it´s good to see you as optimistic as always, _Mishka_." Nikolai say, tired of the demoralizing comments that Berlioz had been throwing at them since the last few hours. His comrades were depressed enough because of the weather, and Mishka´s deadly premonitions weren´t helping. "At least we know that the cold Leningrad´s weather cannot freeze your ravishing mood."

"You can deny it if you want, but that doesn´t make it less true. You´ll see. In just a few weeks this shitty snow is going to bury us alive, and then, with quivering teeth and a frozen tongue, I would have the pleasure to say ´I told you´" And with that, Berlioz gave a loudly grunt, and took one more sip of his canteen full of whisky.

Back in Moscow, when he was still living in a little apartment with his former university colleagues –who were, indeed, so broken as him- he had been a fat, plump man, whose cheeks were always red because of the powers of good Vodka. In that time, respond to the duty call and go to war to ´defend the honor of his country´ had seemed an attractive life choice –at least better than bankruptcy and homelessness, in fact-. Now, trapped in that no man´s land, with a food scarce and a distasteful bottle of alcohol that couldn´t get him drunk properly, the latter option sounded more agreeable.

Most of his comrades, however, did not seem to agree with him. And one of them, named Alexei, had begun to get really tired of his selfish, childish attitude.

"Damn it, Mishka!" He practically screamed that night, tired of the stupid comments of the complainant soldier. "There´s no room for doubt anymore. You truly are a coward." He said, and spat that last word like if it was the worst insult of all. "We are in January already! If the cold didn´t kill you during winter, it´s not going to kill you now!"

Antonin Dovetchko -who, in order to seem professional, didn't allowed his comrades to call him anything but his last name- laughed at the situation, and then said, with a monotonous, slightly amused voice. "I wouldn't underestimate the weather in that way if I were you." Then he looked at Alexei, with strange, bright blue eyes.

"The snow haunted by the wind is like a retreating army." He said. "In the battlefield, it is organized into armies and battalions, and when it finds the appropriate moment, it corners its foe. If it can take cover, it doesn´t hesitate. Entire platoons of man had tried to protect themselves from it, hiding behind fallen walls of concrete or in the deepest caves. Whole regiments had tried to defeat its force, but in the end they are always outnumbered. They are attacked. The snow falls over them, bury and choking them. And as fast as it started, the battle is over."

The entire 103 division fell silent at that. Probably not scared, but stunned by his speech. Latter they would notice that Dovetchko was very little lucid, and that such a nonsense was only originated by his curious, and sometimes hilarious need of scare people around him when he was drunk. Then Nikolai talked, with a hoarse and tired voice "Maybe, if we stop talking about the cold, we could forget about it."

Alexei, who was well known to be an intense, passionate orator, didn´t miss the chance to speak his mind in other of his overused, patriotic speeches. "My friends, Comrade Kolia couldn't be more right!" He proclaimed in a solemn voice. "I think – and I do believe that most of you share my thoughts - that there are more important things to worry about than the change of weather." At that, he waved his hands in the air, trying to give emphasis to his words. "I mean – we have been here for nearly three months and in all that time or superiors have given us not a single task, nor a single order. They just send us in useless recognize missions all over the tundra and pretend that nothing wrong is happening." Then, he made a characteristic, dramatically pause, and continued with a dark voice. "But, my comrades, something _is_ happening."

Suddenly he stood up and tall, and kicking the snow out off his way, he made a curious motion with his left arm to point the landscape around them. "While we are here, seated in the snow and complaining about our frozen butts, there are soldiers –real soldiers- dying in the battlefield, right on the other side of that border – giving their lives for our country." He pointed then at the East Mountain that was the only thing that separated the 103 division from the War Zone in the Finnish border. "Personally, I think that being the soldiers that we are, it wouldn´t be fair it we did any less than them. We should be there, fighting along with our comrades!"

"Could you, _please_, stop saying ´comrades´? You are getting on my nerves!" Nikolai cut him off, not wanting to star with another exchange of views that would eventually end up in a political debate. Alexei, slightly embarrassed by the interruption, and seeing how his inspirations slowly faded away, decided to not reply to that, and with sluggish movements he go back to his seat between Dovetchko and Berlioz.

"I wouldn´t say that we never find anything." Dovetchko say, in a slightly drunk voice. "The other day Ivan and I found something interesting." Ivan Bajlín tensed at that and throw a nervous look to his partner. Dovetchko didn´t noticed, however, and looking how the soldiers around him had gotten closer to listen better, he decided to spill the beans and end up with his confession. "Colonel Todorov calls it an 084. He says that we couldn't talk about it, at least for now. But…"

"Wait a second. What does it mean ´something´ in this context?" Berlioz asked, suddenly interested in the conversation. Dovetchko hesitated, doubting whether or not to answer that question. He opened his mouth, and then close it with a deep frown.

"Rather than saying that we found something…" He finally said, speaking very slowly. "I should say that we found _someone_." That last statement generated a series of murmurs and whispers around the campfire. Nikolai, who was a selfless and hard man to impress, found himself interested in such a story, and decided to make more questions. He hesitated, however, and he asked with a cautious voice.

"_Friend or enemy?"_

"We don´t know." Was Dovetchko´s simple reply. "He didn´t have neither uniform nor credentials. And from what I have heard, he´s not talking either." Then, the soldier looked suspiciously around him and above his companions head, like if he was making sure that nobody else was listening. "He´s not a civilian. Colonel Todorov thinks that he is some type of soldier."

"And why does he think that?" Alexei´s voice was strangely pitched – excited at the idea of having a German soldier under their custody. Dovetchko and his partner shared a strange look, and this time was Ivan the one who answered.

"He wore some type of… _armor._" Most of the soldiers looked impressed and full of curiosity, but Berlioz, instead, tried to laugh at the statement.

"Armor? You mean, like a knight´s armor?"

Ivan, indeed, wasn't sure of how to respond that question, because while the one that the Unknown Soldier wore was made of metal and gold, it wasn't like any other armor that he had ever seen in the battlefield or even in history books. "Kind of…" He decided to respond. "Just less… _flashy_." At that Berlioz looked confused, and with a deep frown and an almost indignant voice, he said:

"That doesn´t make sense! What would a knight be doing in Leningrad?!" Berlioz seemed reluctant to believe what he was hearing, but before he could say anything to refute Ivan´s words, Nikolai´s deep and serious tone cut him off.

"I would not worry about that if I were you." His companions looked at him with confusion, not quite understanding what he meant with that. Realizing that they did not understand the gravity of the situation, he continued. "If what you are saying it´s true, the bastard most be tied up in the thirteenth tent, with a high rank officer monitoring him, and the only thing that matters is that he stays there." Then he took his cup full of black coffee and took it all in one gulp. "In the middle of a war, a 084 is never a good signal." He said under his breath, more to himself than to anyone else

_-._-._.-_

"He was unconscious when he arrived." Dr. Moskvin said, carefully eyeing the contents of a small manila folder.

The medical history of the patient, which had been carelessly spread all over his desk, was too long -having in count the short time that he had spent under the care of his nurses-. More than long, the history was tedious, incomplete, full of loopholes that he could just fill with protocolor palaver. Not so long ago, he had decided that try to put together a record of this particular subject was a waste of time. Dr. Spalko, however, -unlike the other interrogators that had approached the nursing´s tent in the past few days-, listened attentive and carefully to everything he had to say about this patient, like if she, indeed, believed that it was going to serve her for something.

"He was uninjured, relatively healthy, with just a couple of bruises. So, in the beginning, we didn´t worry too much about him." Spalko, who didn't bothered in taking seat in one of the chairs in front his desk, nodded in understanding. Her hands clasped behind her back and her proudly lifted chin gave her a military essence that the doctor found strange in a woman.

"Then, when he wake up, the diagnosis changed." The words came slowly out of his mouth, and Dr. Moskvin adjusted his glasses as he went to another page of the file. "Though he didn´t spoke at first, when he did he… started to show some problems." He licked his lips before continuing, and looked at Spalko in a strange way. She noticed, and frowned. "Severe problems."

"And what would those be?" She asked, narrowing her eyes.

The doctor went quiet for a while, thinking in what answer could he give. "He´s… totally disoriented." He said, shaking his head, as if his own diagnosis startled him. "He doesn´t know where he is, nor what day it is. He's not capable to answer our simplest questions…" Then his voice trailed off, and he looked at the woman in front of him straight in the eye. "Look, you are not the first one that comes to interrogate him. Many other soldiers had come in this tent for the same matter and none of them managed to make him talk. Supposedly, I´m his doctor and he does not talk to me either… I can sure, Lieutenant, that to this point, that man is not going to say anything."

Spalko pursed her lips in distaste at the statement, but didn´t say anything. She was not sure about it - she _knew_ that she could make him talk. She just needed some time alone with him and a little cooperation. Spalko always had success in her interrogations, and this would not be the exception. The doctor, in the other hand, looked troubled by his patient, she could tell. Most of the soldiers of the 103 Division -specially the high rank officer- found unbearable and even worrying the fact that Dr. Moskvin and his nurses took care of every sick or wounded man that entered in their tent, no matter if it was friend or enemy. Spalko too found it disturbing.

"He´s an impressive man, despite everything." The doctor said, his eyes lost in the medical history again. Then he took off his glasses and looked back at her. She found a little spark of amusement in his gaze. "The first time he wake up he was agitated, nervous, slightly aggressive. Colonel Todorov sent two of his man to restrain and he knocked them down." Spalko narrowed his eyes at that, and tried to ignore the grin full of pride that crossed the doctor´s face. There was something impartial, _unprejudiced_ about this man that she deeply disliked.

"They could control him with five, maybe six man, and they ordered my nurses to inject him stellazine, to put him to sleep." He continued, he´s features full of excitement when he handed her the medical history. Spalko corroborated the dose in the bottom of the third leaf, and something changed in his features. -Moskvin couldn't have said what-. "Whe give him enough drugs to knock out a bear." He said, biting his lower lip and with an odd expression in his face. "The man stayed on his feet. He didn´t even get to blink!"

Spalko pursed her lips once again, and she casted one last look at the document before closing the folder and put it under her left arm. The excitement in Moskvin´s face disappeared, realizing that he was telling this peculiar anecdote to the wrong person. She carefully removed her black gloves, and pressed them between both of her hands before start talking.

"Five persons came in here before me." She said, making the sign of five with her right hand, in such a brusque manner that made the doctor jump in his seat. "And he has been in this camp for over three days now. Even if he didn´t answered their questions, he most have said something, -_anything-, _yes?" Dr. Moskvin looked blankly at her for a few seconds before he responded.

"He gave us a name. That´s everything we got. " He said dryly. "Is in the underside of the folder." She turned the folder and looked absently at it for a moment, before returning her heavy, critical gaze to him.

"_Loki?"_ She said aloud, frowning.

"Loki." The doctor repeated, scratching his forehead. "No last name. No second name. Just Loki." He added when he stand up. "I don´t think that is his _real_ name, though. It sounds more like an alias to me…"

Spalko looked at him, then back at the folder and back at him again. Finally, she returned the documents to under her left arm, and a wide, unexpectedly warm smile appeared in her face. Though there was something strange, _wicked_ in that expression, Moskvin really, didn´t know what it was.

"I would like to see this _Loki _now, Doctor." She said in an even voice, heading to the exit of the tent. "Let´s see what our common friend as to say." He swallowed, and looked at the woman one last time; her lifted ankles, her hands behind her back, and her straight military frame.

He pursed his lips in distaste, and followed her.

_-._-._.-_

Loki believed, -and were those beliefs' certainly truth- that when you found yourself in an awkward position, with very few resources at your disposal, the best thing to do is gather information and wait for the right moment to use it at your advantage. Knowledge is, after all, the upper hand in every successful scheme, and the lack of it might as well lead you to failure. That´s why, when he gained enough lucidity to understand where he was and what had happened to him, he had been hit by the realization that his first attempt to escape had been a rather lamentable spectacle, if not, a regrettable display of reckless and _stupidity._

In that moment, willfully ignoring the prick of earthen floor under his bare feet, Loki would sit upright in the uncomfortable mattress where he was currently lying. He would look at the metal handcuffs that bound him to the back of the bed, and would remember, with a shamefully grimace in his face, how he had rammed against every living thing in his surroundings when he had first wake up, in an sloppy attempt to escape from his -at that time- unknown captors. He had never been one to handle hazardous situations with raw power, but when his mind had been cleared of the heavy fog of a deep slumber, and he had find himself tied up to a stretcher, surrounded by a group of strange people pointing needles and unknown instruments at him -his ears still buzzing at the so long forgotten existence of sound-, break free and runaway had seem the most likable option.

Now, that he was lying face up in the uncomfortable mattress with which he had been provided, and the sign of movements outside the tent seemed to grow faint, he gave himself the luxury to review the information that he had obtained during the past three days, just looking around the place, and carefully examining his healers and the peculiar warriors who occasionally came to interrogate him. In the first night of his imprisonment, -basing his assumptions on the number of moons of the planet and in the order of its constellations- Loki had concluded that he was in Midgard.

Therefore, he had remained silent, and had ignored -if not dismissed- all the interrogators that have come to the tent to question him. Not a single word, not a single sound had come out of his mouth since his arrival, and they had, apparently, taken offense to this lack of cooperation; he could tell, by the metallic warmth of blood in his mouth and the painful pang in his ribs. Nonetheless, he continued to resist them. He was well aware that Midgardians ignored the existence of Yggdrasil, and any of the other Realms that comprise it, and in the actual scenario, going out rambling about life in another planets and the existence of powerful, omnipotent beings above our heads simply didn't seem like the best thing to do. And although been the one who unveiled the truth of the Three of Life to humankind, and being worshiped as an all-powerful being for the mortals did sound like a pleasant idea, they would most likely not believe him, and would merely throw him in the nearest Healing Chamber, to start a suitable treatment for his delusional mind state. So civilizations react when they are show more than it should have.

With each passing day, Loki also began to suspect that he was currently living in a War Zone. The encampment hadn't been under any type of attack, and he had not yet contemplated any sign of violence between the warriors that guarded him. He would notice, however, the suspicion that glittered in their gazes every time they looked at him, and would take mind of that heavy tension that filled the air around him - that electricity like sensation that make him tense and wary every time the movement outside the tent increased, and the shadows in the other side of the carp marched into a martial gear. In those moments, his ears would be filled by a deep, throaty sing, intoned by thousands of voices in a rough, frightening language that he had never heard before, and he would uncomfortably stir in the mattress, wrapping his head in an old grey blanket in order to turn off the sound.

That had gave Loki the idea that he was outnumbered, without having to face neither the outside world nor the warriors who inhabitant it. If his supposition was correct, and the men in the other side of the carp were as strong as the ones who had handcuffed him to the back of the bed, then escape would prove to be a difficult thing to go.

Once again, Loki looked at his handcuffs and sat upright, frustrated. The manacles, really, weren´t strong enough to immobilizing him, but if he wanted to gain more information out of this situation, it would be best to keep the appearances: Right then, see subjugated and restrained seemed to be one of them. During the past few hours he had been approached by the strong inkling that a watershed event in his life as prisoner was about to take place. He did not know if it was an opportunity to seek information, or a sudden change of the scenario that would allow him to escape -or maybe something else, he wasn´t sure-. But a nervous excitement, that did not allow him to eat, drink or sleep, was stirring within him - boiling in the bottom of his stomach. He licked his lips, trying to ignore the tingle around his wrist, and lay on his back again, patiently waiting for something to happen.

Because he knew that _something_, whatever it was, was about to happen.

* * *

What can I said? This was Spalko´s first appearance and I'm just so excited! She´s a really fun character to write about; so strong, intense and confident... I love her! XD

Also, I had never written about Loki, so this was quite a challenge to me. I hope he´s not to much Head Cannon. I wanted to picture him as a good, smart warrior, but I didn´t want to cross the line. Normally, fanfics over exagerate his inteligence... (?)

Anyway, Thanks for read! :D

P.D: In my mind, this Dr. Moskvin is played by Martin Freeman. So, enjoy!


	3. The Woman

**The Sounds of Silence**

**Chapter 2**

The day Irina Spalko crossed the entrance of the tent thirteenth, Loki´s strong inkling was proved right.

It was late at night. The furious hustle that characterized the days in the camp had finally subsided. The large shadows that used to march around the tent had become more and more smaller with the passing of the day, finally disappearing after the sunset, and the commanding shouts that every now and then Loki could catch in the other side of the carp had muffled in low whispers, barely audible. Since the light of the day had shut down, he had stayed uncommonly quiet; all his attention focused in the dull flickering of a lantern that one of the warriors had left –right on the center of the quarter- after his last questioning. Its light was slight and dim, coated by and essence of green that didn´t let it fade.

Overwhelmed by the sudden silence, Loki had curled his long body in the tiny mattress where he had been living during the past three days. Since his arrival to Midgard, he had not been able to sleep properly; the inactivity that characterized his days of imprisonment and the painful pangs that the interrogations left in his body just didn´t allow him to relax. That night he had tried to fall asleep in several occasions; he had been tossing and turning the whole evening, stirring to find a comfortable position, but slumber eluded him. The heat of unspent energy was waving inside him - running through his veins. He needed to do something –_anything-, _to get rid of the anxiety that was stirring in his chest.

He couldn't handle the idea of quietness anymore, nor he could bear the darkness surrounding the world around him at nights. In his sleep, he would dream about the bright sun being extinguished along with the stars. About men forgetting their passions in dread, lost in the desolation of a moonless night; about the morning coming and going, without ever bringing the day. And in the darkness, men prayed for light and warm, and huts, cities and Thrones –places for crowned kings- were for burn in cold beacon to build watchfires. And a blind hope was all they knew; forests were set on fire, and everything went lost in crackling trunks. And everything was black; black and silent, and _void_ \- filling Loki´s heart with the painful clarity of blacked memories.

Suddenly, the dull flicker of the old lantern became bigger and bigger, lightening the entire tent.

Trapped in a disturbing state of numbness, Loki jolted when the silence in which he had submerged was interrupted by a low murmur. He tilted his head to the side, trying to listen better, and he could catch the hoarse voices of his guards arguing with someone outside the tent. Still ignorant of the language spoken by the Midgardians around him, however, he couldn´t do more than identified a few words. He placed his index finger over his mouth, and started to absently rub his lower lip, -a nasty custom that he used to practice when he was trying to think-.

"_Davay"_ was an order to proceed, that he knew it, and after listening closely the guards' morning exchange he had concluded that the word _"Uznik" – _his current penname- meant _Prisoner. _However, it was the word "_Tovarishch_" the one that caught his attention -an expression commonly used by the warriors, and whose meaning was still unknown to him.

When he heard the unmistakable clatter of footsteps beyond the carp´s input, Loki straightened up in the bed, putting all his effort in get rid of the numbness that had taken over his body the last few hours. At the sudden movement he went still, and a low growl, that sounded more like an old cat´s snort, escaped from him. _Nothing good ever comes out of the interrogations,_ he thought bitterly while putting his hand over his torso, trying to soothe the painful pang between his ribs.

She came in the tent without hesitation, followed by the strange little man that Loki had come to recognize as his healer. Their silhouettes were barely recognizable in the darkness of the room, and at first, the only thing that Loki could recognize from her was the sinuosity of a female figure and the shinning glow of a golden buckle.

The body language of his visitors, -Loki noticed while staring at them- were rather different, to say the least. For some time now, he had concluded that his healer was not trained in the battlefield, despite the warlike atmosphere in which he currently lived; he could tell by his doubtful manners and his sturdy little shape. His vivid excitement towards raw power was, however, a curious trait that Loki had found both surprising and amusing. Nevertheless, this unknown woman, who headed towards him with a straight frame and fixed, staring eyes, had this impetuous and striking presence that Loki could only link with the one of a trained warrior.

When the woman got closer to him, taking the old lantern from the floor with a gloved hand, her features where lightened by the dull flicker, and Loki could see her pale blue eyes glancing down at him. In her passive expression, illuminated by that greenish essence that coated the lamp, he found a strange, foreign thing that he couldn´t explain in words, but that reminded him of hungry and passion, and that for a few seconds, while being under the inquisitive gaze of this lower human, made him feel like a cornered animal.

Then, she walked away, putting the lantern over the wooden desk that was placed a few inches from the mattress. She pulled out a box of matches from her pocket, and in a fast motion rekindled the fire of the lamp. Suddenly, the dark and gloomy tent was illuminated with a pale light, and Loki could properly see his visitors from the first time since their arrival. When he caught sight of the silvery sheen of the handle of a sword in the woman's belt he couldn´t help but smirk; he had known barely a bunch of she-warriors in all his life, but he knew that come what may, that night promised to be one of kind.

_-._.-._-._

"You have him in restrains." Was the first thing that Dr. Spalko said when they entered to the thirteenth tent, and the lights were turned on. Dr. Moskvin turned to look at her with what may have been surprise or exasperation; there was something in her voice that made that sound as an accusation.

"With all due respect, Dr. Weren't you listening my report?" He asked her, not quite sure of what to say. She arched an eyebrow, as prompting him to continue. "He sent two of Todorov's man to the infirmary! Of course he's in restraints!"

She looked blankly at him for a moment, then nodded and turned away, not wishing to push more in the matter. "Does he understand us?" She asked, not looking at the doctor but at his patient. He seemed curious at the situation, slightly amused, but hadn´t said anything since their arrival.

"No. Not a single word." He said, resting his back on the wooden desk behind him. "But he speaks English, and in a really interesting way." At that comment, a big smile appeared in the doctor´s face, as if remembering something funny. "It's like British English, but more... _medieval_… I don´t know if he does it on purpose or if it's just his way of speaking, but it is truly hilarious." The doctor put his hand over his mouth, trying to hide his giggle.

Spalko frowned at that, and turned to look at the prisoner in an inquisitive way. His eyes were fixed on them, and although he was intently listening them, he didn't really seemed to understand what they were saying. "You may leave if you want, Dr. Moskvin. Your presence is not required in this interrogation." She said as farewell, not turning to look at him.

Moskvin glared at her -an angry grim crossing his features- but not complain came out of his mouth, and he turned away to leave. However, right before crossing the carp´s input, he hesitate, and when he looked over his shoulders, to caught the sight of Loki waving at him in some sort of goodbye, he felt a pang of guilt in his chest. Spalko was a tough woman, and this questioning didn't promised to be any more pleasant than the others five were.

_-._.-._-._

The Midgardians that were keeping him as a prisoner were in the middle of a war: that was a thought that rarely leaved Loki in his days of imprisonment.

He had submerged himself in the heat of battle before; he had found himself outnumbered in enemy´s ground with no more than five men by his side and zero probability of survival. He knew far too well that overwhelming anxiety that hangs to one´s chest when in those precarious moments the lack of knowledge compromises the whole undertaking. He was conscious that these warriors were going to do whatever was necessary to extract useful information from him, no matter how much he claimed to be innocent or ignorant of the circumstances; they simply didn´t have a reason to believe him. For all that mattered, he had expected the use of violent methods since the beginning, and every single warrior that had crossed the carp´s input proved his assumptions right.

The woman, however, did not.

She just putted out the chair of the wooden desk and placed it in front of his mattress, putting a prudent distant between the two of them. Then, Loki looked at her intently; how she crossed her legs, placing her hands over her knees and returning his gaze with a passive expression. Moreover, she stayed silent, almost contemplative, as one who´s patiently waiting for something to happen. There was neither cold determination nor angered anxiety in the woman´s eye, but at the same time, they lacked of empathy and compassion: They were just a bluish nothing, studding him from head to toe, as it they could see right through him.

"I´m going to be completely honest with you," The woman said suddenly, dragging the words in a curious way, and speaking with a heavy accent that Loki had only hear in his healer, during his evening consultations. "My comrades think that I am wasting my time with this interrogation. They think that you do not worth the try; that we should concentrate in more important matters, and leave the cold blizzards of Siberia do the job for us." Loki frowned at her – the fear that should have come with the treat going unnoticed, thus he did not know what she meat with it. "I, however, must disagree with them."

Then she leaned closer, and a soft smile appeared in her face. Loki´s mouth twitched slightly nervously when the woman shortened the distance between them, putting her hands over his knees. "I believe you are a good man, _Loki_." She told him, almost in a whisper – something in his stomach twisted at those words, and he tasted an acrid, bitter flavor in his suddenly dry mouth. "A good man, who found himself in the wrong place, at the wrong moment." The hands over his knees started to squeeze, and he felt something like fear hang to his chest. Suddenly, he felt unsafe; in an unconscious way, he putted his hand over his belly, almost protectively, and a dull shine appeared in his bright green eyes.

"That is why tonight I am going to give you two paths to take: One of these paths leads to a bright future, and the other one, doesn´t." When she straightened up in her seat, getting away from him, Loki lead out a breath that he didn´t know he was holding. "You can stay silent, and wait for my superiors to lose their patience and decide to send you to a dark, cold prison cell in Siberia to spend the last of your days; or you can get out of this one as a free man, with a lifetime ahead. ´A fresh new start´, I think they said. All you have to do is tell me what you know and _I_ would give _you_ what you need." The soft smile in her face became in something wicker, even mocking, and Loki, for the first time in what seemed an eternity, felt the familiar weight of a passive fury over his shoulders.

He smiled at her, however, and when he talked to her, he made his best effort to sound formal and regal. "Is this your attempt of a successful questioning?" He asked, startling her. "This is pathetic; nothing more than a child´s play." She frowned at him, but didn´t manage a proper answer. There was a quiet silent in the tent before Loki dared to speak again. "If I told you that I´m familiarized with your methods of interrogation, I would be lying. This one, however, I think I understand it." He cleared his throat then, and tried to find a comfortable position in his tiny mattress. "This is the one in which you torture me in the most awful ways you know, trying to destroy my spirit and soul, and eventually break my wild. Then, you send a young, attractive woman to befriend me, gain my trust; to convince me that she would assure my safety, and that everything would went well for me if I make the wise decision of give my captors the information they so desperately look for… Is it not?"

The woman pursed her lips in distaste when Loki turned to look at her with an arrogant smirk, but didn´t make anything else to show her disgust. "Yours is an interesting assumption. However, given the circumstances, it would not be _wise _of me to prove it right, _yes?" _A hoarse giggle escaped from her, and for some reason, Loki had the impression that she was trying to mock him. "What approach would you take in my place, then?" She asked, inquisitive, taking off her black gloves and placing them over her lap. She was not nervous; however, given the circumstances, the prisoner seemed far too pleased with the way the interrogation was taking, and that unnerved her.

"Oh, I would have started with something far simpler than this." This time, it was Loki the one who leaned closer, and the woman the one who tried to lengthen the distance. "Ask for my name, maybe?" He said evenly, as if it was nothing more than an innocent proposal.

She folded her arms, and raised her eyebrows in an expectant way. He smirked at her, and after clearing his throat, Loki finally started talking.

* * *

Hi! Sorry it took me so long to update; this chapter was really hard to write, but very fun at the same time. This was Irina´s and Loki´s first encounter and I _need it_ to be perfect X3. I wanted their exchange to be smart and witty, and I hope I have managed to do it so.

I think I need to clarify that because of the circumstances their relationship would be an eventual thing for now. (But don´t worry, they would love each other very soon 3). Anyway, I hope you liked the chapter, and please leave reviews! :D

P.D: I want to give this couple a name (A clever name, like Tasertricks or FrostIron) but I can´t think in anything good. Got any ideas?

P.D.D: I love to write about Dr. Moskvin. He´s great! XD


	4. The Space-man

**The Sounds of Silence**

**Chapter 3**

"_International finance remained brutal and squeezed our Volk ruthlessly."_

That January 30 from 1940, the granulated voice of Adolf Hitler echoed through Irina Spalko´s tent, in the form of a radial transmission. The words were spoken in German; regardless they were crossed by a thick Austrian accent that made his speech sound throaty and hoarse -_Animalistic,_ some people would have say back in the day-.

"_The statement of the Allied Nations closed their hearts to it."_

The lack of hesitation in his voice, however, far away to remind her to the blind rage of a common beast, it evoked in Spalko the cold determination of a General in battle; the charisma of a leader representing his people in the scaffold, and the undeniable and irrational hatred towards a mere scapegoat.

"_In cold blood, they declared that Twenty Millions of Germans were too many."_

Back in the capital -back in the crowded streets of Moscow, in the bitterness of early-morning black tea, and in the warm heat of sunrise dissipated by the light fog- people feared the Germans and their rough language.

_"In 1930, the Western Powers finally dropped their masks."_

The even sensationalist drama of modern cinema had been tasked to show the soviet population the dangers of National Socialism through fetched movie plots involving world domination and absurdly wicked characters wearing Nazi swastikas.

_"Despite all our attempts and our advances, they sent us the declaration of war!"_

Moreover, while the alienated crowds screamed with excitement every time that comrade Stalin announced another victory on the battlefield, and their hearts were filled with resentment every time German forces defeated their proud Red Army in the field, Irina Spalko would laugh at their ignorance, knowing herself free from the ingenuity of common thinking.

_"This was precisely what my domestic opponents used to tell me. I held my hand in friendship to them, but they refused it, and they cried: "_

She was not overcome by a wave of hatred every time she heard a NAZI soldier preaching death towards the Jews, nor did she felt an almost painful pang of resentment when in the middle of their parades they stepped over The Red Flag.

_"´No reconciliation!"_

Some had called her stateless and disloyal for that, but she knew better.

_"No understanding!"_

They were in the middle of a war, so close to the battlefield that during nights, when everything was quiet and peaceful in their part of the forest, they could smell the acrid stench of gunpowder and heard the stunning bellows of muskets being fired at the enemy.

_"Only war!"_

If the time to fight came for them -and Spalko was sure it would come, in the meant time- a good strategy and a cool head would prove to be much more useful than a merciless bloodshed inspired by misplaced hate. Moreover, she was not willing to let her division die in the hands of Germans moved by a sentiment of patriotism evoked in a Red Flag: War has to be more than sentimentality and symbolisms, was what she thought.

_"Well, they got their war!"_

Spalko shivered slightly when the unexpected scream came out of the radio speakers, and frowning at the machine, she turned it off.

_-._-._.-_

_Spalko looked at her Pocket Watch intently, and realizing that the clock hands were not moving, she shook it a little. When the problem was not solved, she tapped it and held it closer to her ear, trying to listen better: the mechanism didn't seemed to be working._ _She frowned at the watch, knowing that she would not be able to acquire another anytime soon, and turned to look at Loki._

"_Then, shall we begin?" She asked with that strange smile in her face, slightly turning her head inside the uniform´s neck. Loki watched every gesture that the woman made, nervously pulling his little finger. There was something in her staring that made him feel uncomfortable._

"…_The name is Erik Selvig." He began, bowing at her in some sort of greeting. In an automatic movement, she opened the carpet containing the report, and hurried to write the name. Loki took a deep breath, reviewing for the last time the small pieces of information about life on earth at his disposal, and that were, indeed, his only chance to build a credible alibi. "I am an astrophysicist, although I specialize in atmospheric phenomena." He said very slowly, taking good care of every word._

"_Very well" She said, giving another glance at the clock and writing the new information in the bottom of the report. "Lieutenant-Doctor Irina Spalko" She said formally, extending her hand to him. Loki arched his eyebrows, watching at the foreign display with uncertainty. When he didn´t reach for the handshake, the woman looked sternly at him, but didn´t said anything. _

"_Then, tell me, Dr. Selvig…" She began, abruptly given up on the gesture. "What brings a man like you to this frozen part of the world?" She said, rising from her seat to go and stand in front of the wooden table. "What are your businesses in Leningrad?" When she took the handle of the old lantern, the green light that has been surrounding it suddenly disappeared, leaving behind just a dull white flicker. She frowned at the lantern, startled, and tapped it softly, trying to restore its previous color._

_Loki looked around, then at that dark corner of the tent that was barely reached by the light of the lamp, and after a minute of silence, he answered calmly "Honestly, Dr. I do not know if I should tell you." He said, drawing the word "Doctor" with uncertainty, probably not sure if he was pronouncing it right. Rather than seem bothered, Spalko looked calm and appeased with the response; as if she was expecting it since the beginning._

"_Why should I trust you with the one thing that I have denied to every single man that had entered in this tent?" He quietly reclined in the back of the bed, staring directly to the woman´s back; in the neck of her uniform, he noticed a little black symbol, that was difficult to see in the middle of the dark that surrounded them, but that he could tell, represented a sickle and an ancient hammer. He found himself wondering what such a symbol could mean when the woman turned in her heels to look at him again._

"_Because I´m offering you a deal." She said evenly, as if it was something obvious. "I cannot return you to your old life. After this is all over, you will not be able to return to where you came from never again. You would be persecuted and imprisoned if you did." She warned, getting closer to him and placing a hand over the back of his bed. "But if you give us what we need, I can guarantee your freedom on Soviet soil. I can get you credentials, government subsidy, a department, a job, an automobile; whatever you want." She said, smiling widely at him and absently squeezing her black gloves. Loki swallowed hard, looking up at her with uncertainty._

"_You are good persuader, Dr. I have to grant you that." Loki told her, clenching his hands, suddenly very aware of the handcuffs surrounded them. "But, what would you ask in return for all these subsidies?" At the question, Spalko´s smiled widened even more, and Loki could felt that bluish nothing fell over him again, studying him from head to toe; making him feel like a sedated animal, made and arranged for her to dissect._

"_Three weeks ago our armed forces spotted a large unidentified platoon bordering the Finnish frontier; the photographs taken by our technicians revealed three truckloads charged with equipment for research and tracking, but we do not know for what this machinery is intended to nor what are they looking for in our borders." She told him, straightening her posture and handing him a second folder, this one thicker and color gray. _

_He opened it, and frowned when he saw the pictures it held inside; the vehicles and machinery items looked impractical and outdated to him, even primitive compared to the technology he was used to operate. Before he could dwell in the design, trying to guess how it worked, Spalko´s voice broke into his thoughts. "I want you to tell me the exact location of this platoon and what kind of operation it´s carrying out."_

_Loki looked at the pictures one more time, and although he felt a tough knot forming in the bottom of his stomach, when he looked up to the woman there was a big wicked smile on his face. "And how I can be sure that you will fulfill your part of the deal?" Spalko's smile transformed and unfolded in a great grin._

"_We would send a request to the Soviets this very night." She told him grinning, calm and cold. "Tomorrow, at this same hour, I will have in my hands a certificate of political asylum. I would sign it myself, in front of you, and then, and just then, you would give me the answers I am looking for." Spalko replaced her hand over her knees and before continuing, she cleared her throat. "Then, do we have a deal?"_

_Loki stayed very quiet for a minute, considering his options and watching at the woman in a silent scrutiny. "I would accept your bargain, Irina Spalko. And I swear to you that I would do everything in my power to fulfill my part." He vehemently declared, making a deep bow towards her. _

_Loki continued to look at her straight in the eyes, in some kind of surprised admiration, and Spalko, immersed in a profound silence, was doing the same._

_-._-._.-_

It was a peaceful night in the woods of Leningrad, as clear and cold as it can be a night on the moors. The dark hours were usually so in that snowy part of the region, where the heated woodland slowly becomes in frozen tundra and the force of the wind goes sharp and fierce before the light of dawn. And being there -impatiently waiting for the ascent of the sun- Loki was crouching by the side of the only window of his tent, looking of the reassuring light of the full moon.

He was aware of the coldness that hung over those white mountains, blanketing the tents of the campsite in a fuzzy mantle of snow. It was dark, the night was embroiled in an unsullied whiteness, a blizzard-like wind was drifting furiously inside of the tent, and he knew he should feel cold. He knew that his bones should be quivering at the icy climate of the night; that his hair should be on tip, begging to be warmed by the pleasant inflame of a living heat. He -like any other Aesir- should not be resistant to the cold of winter; and, however, he was, and never in his life he had been so aware of that until that moment.

Loki, with cheeks sunken in his hands, with elbows on his knees, and his teeth clenching for something that was not the cold of the night, looked like he could fall apart in pieces at any moment. However, during the last hour he had blinked barely a few times, and he seemed to have no intention of going to sleep any time soon. Then he heard a sharp blow outside his tent, followed by a shrill scream that, in the strangest of ironies, made his blood ran cold.

Considering the hours and the place where he was, the fierceness of that scream should have alarmed anyone, but Loki just ignored it; he simply stood there, looking at the window askance. When the carp´s input was opened violently, all he did was cringe a little more, as it waiting for something terrible to happen. Then, being dragged by two burly warriors, a tall old man entered the tent. He was wearing a dusty gray coat riddled with holes, and used some small green glasses that had been tarnished by the snow. Loki noticed how his hands were clenched behind his back and assumed that he had been handcuffed. It was the red scarf that covered his head, however, what really called his attention; on it was etched the same black symbol that he had seen in the uniform´s neck of the woman.

The two warriors pushed the old man into the tent, making him fall to the ground, a few feet away from his mattress. They threw him a holey blanket, and shouted at him something in that strange language that Loki had already named The Language of the Savages -for lack of any other suitable name-. The old man just ley there in fetal, making no effort to defend himself. The warriors came out of the tent, muttering something that suspiciously sounded like "Otvayomai" and that was it. The place was quiet again, and weight in Loki´s back disappeared.

The old man took a few silent steps towards him and placed his hand gloved and frigid in Loki´s shoulder. He roused himself and turned to look at him with no little surprise. "I know you." Was what he said, in an almost trembling voice - his green glasses slipping from his nose. "You are the space-man! The guy who fell from the sky!" He vigorously screamed, making him jump in his seat. Loki frowned at his new cellmate -if it could be called that-, not understanding.

* * *

I'm really sorry, this took way too long to write :(  
I hope you like it, though.

P.D: The scene written in Italic is a memory of the Spalko´s interrogation.  
P.D.P.D: I´ve been making some SpalkoxLoki videos in youtube, if you are interested in seen them. This is my youtube account: user/kanon208


	5. URSS, Leningrad

**The Sounds of Silence**

**Chapter 4**

Leningrad was one of the most splendid cities that Nikolai had ever seen: it was a cold and strangely enjoyable place that even veiled in the thick fog of late winter seemed full of life and movement. When he was in high school, before joining the armed forces, he had been taught that the metropolis was funded by Peter the Great, and that Russians comrades had designed it and built it with help of German, French and Italian architects. The declaration of war did not allowed him to enter into college, and he never had the chance to learn much about it, but he had always been fascinated by architecture, and every time an operation brought him to Leningrad he found himself looking with admiration the edification of the city.

When they were dealing with a routine operation, and the superiors gave them a day off, he took pictures of the most important buildings and streets with an old camera that his father had given to him before enrolling in the army. Nikolai always carried a small box where he kept photographs of the _Road of Life_, the_ Saint Isaac´s Cathedral_, and the_ Mariinsky Palace _-all of them in black, because he did not have the time to reveal them-. Whenever he watched the picture that -even when it was in black- he knew it to be the _Fortress of San Pedro and San Pablo_, and he remembered that in this very city had seen the eve of the Russian Revolution, his chest was swelled with something close to pride.

This time, however, _Kolia_ knew that their superiors would not give them a day off. They were transporting a dangerous prisoner to one of their Blind Spot in the capital, and Colonel Todorov had made sure to bring the entire unit with him, in case that he tried to escape. Speaking the truth, Nikolai had never seen him: about _Loki_ he had only heard rumors, and just knew for sure what was written on his file. Since the last meeting in the campsite a couple of weeks ago, all sorts of rumors about the 084 have been spread throughout the 103 Division. Some of his comrades spoke about a Nazi Soldier specially trained to dismantle their unit, others were rumoring about a James Bond Android created by the British Intelligence, and others feared that after so long the American project of the Super Soldier Serum had been finally completed. As _Kolia_ understood, however, his apparent resistance to ordinary drugs and the large force he put into practice when he felt threatened seemed to be the only dangerous things about their prisoner.

The whole company moved through the woods that bordered Leningrad, and stopped at the outskirts of the city, along the banks of the Neva Bay of the Gulf of Finland. When they arrived there, the men were divided in two groups: the larger of the two was ordered to camp at the foot of the hills and expect instructions in case the operation went wrong, while the other one -composed of five soldiers and two high rank officers- was ordered to transfer the prisoner to the downtown. They gave Nikolai instructions to take Colonel Todorov´s Chaika and bring _Loki_ to the Blind Spot, while other two cars escorted them from the front and behind.

At the beginning, when Berlioz got into the car and took the driver´s seat, -his cheeks red and swollen for the cold of the morning- and _Kolia _looked to the passengers seats, he wondered if there had been some kind of mistake or if they had taken the wrong automobile, because there was no way that that lanky weakling in the other side of the window was the highly dangerous criminal -as some had described him- who had knocked out Todorov's men as if they were elementary school children. However, before he could replied something, Berlioz turned on the car and the rest of the escort began to move; so _Kolia_ just sat in the passenger seat, beside the 084 that had chilled his division´s blood for the past three weeks, and let whatever had to happen, happen.

* * *

_It would not have been an overstatement to say that Mr. Vólkov was, indeed, one of the strangest men Loki had ever met. From the first moment he entered the tent, he showed such a dramatic state of delirium that he even came to wonder if he had just become the victim of a cruel joke. The man was babbling about military camps, political prisoners, experimental projects and others nonsenses that even if he tried, Loki couldn't understand. Finally, after two hours pressed tightly against the wall, watching the delusional man talking to himself, everything went silent, and Loki let out a sigh of relief. The old human began to calm down, and when his state of frenzy was finally appeased, Loki found certain lucidity in his words that resulted highly interesting –if not, very useful for him-. _

_Mr. Vólkov, whose name was discovered thanks to a brilliant military insignia over the pocket of his uniform, sat on one side of his mattress, embracing himself, and remained silent. Loki, who was still tightly pressed between the tent´s walls and the back of his bed, stared at the man with wary eyes. Anyone who didn´t knew better would have say that he was afraid of the man, but it was not that; it was a sense of nervousness in the base of his stomach, telling him that stay away from him was for the best. Very soon, he realized that Mr. Vólkov´s dusty uniform and his thick foreign accent were, actually, no different from the ones of his keepers. That led him to think that this one was not just a common prisoner, but some type of traitor. Curiosity got the best of him, and before he knew it, he found himself asking a question to the man. _

"_Hey… Midgardian!" He called, realizing that he still didn't know how to properly address this people. "Do you know where we are?" _

_Mr. Vólkov turned to look at him with uncertainty in his eyes, not sure how to respond. "We are on planet Earth, from the Milky Way!" He said after a moment of silence, in a way too pitched voice. "Have you never heard about the Milky Way?" He asked. Loki frowned at him then, startled. _

"_What? No, no! I know what realm is this. I´m asking you in what region are we, in what… what…" Then Loki stayed silent, realizing that he didn´t even know how to ask the question. More than that, it didn´t really mattered where he was; he couldn´t be orientated because he didn´t knew a single think about midgardian geography. _

_When he didn´t finished the question and just remained silent, looking through the only tent´s window, the man approached him with questioning eyes. Then, he began to viscously shake his clothes, as if he was looking for something. After a few minutes, he pulled out a ragged diary full of brief notes and small mark books; he took out from the pages what seemed like a badly drawn map and handed it to Loki. _

"_We are right here, in the URSS: Union of Soviet Socialist Republics." He said with a proud voice, pouting a spot in the map. "We are currently in custody of the Red Army, the most powerful armed forces in the Eurasian continent." He declared, making Loki raise his eyebrows in surprise. _

_Mr. Vólkov spent the rest of the evening trying to explain Loki the basics of Earth´s geography; he pointed him what he seemed to think were the most important countries in the map, and talked to him about the apparent War Zone in which they were currently living in. Loki really didn't care about who or what was the cause of this bellicose conflict -that was, apparently, one of the most important in Midgard´s history- nor about the political leaders that had allowed it to happen. However, it did not take long for Mr. Vólkov to start wander in the matter: then, he began to tell a curious story about Loki himself, and how he had seen him fall from the very blue sky._

"_My division was taken prisoner by those Germans bastards two months ago, and we had accompanied the platoon ever since." He began, unconsciously moving close to Loki, as if he was telling him a very important secret. "I was, in fact, in the prisoner's tent when it happened. These Nazis, apparently, were here, in Leningrad, investigating atmospheric phenomena; they brought scientists and technology of the highest quality with them." He said, making Loki narrow his eyes with disbelief. "That day the scientists were acting very strangely; it seems that they had caught unusual activities on their radars, but their machines couldn´t process the data. When night fell, and we were all sleeping, an electrical storm started -out of nowhere- and all the equipment began to fail. The radars were paralyzed, the motion sensors went blank, and the energy readers exploded! Some… some type of rupture appeared in the sky -like when you break a piece of paper or a blanket- and well... You showed up!" He screamed with excitement, moving even closer. "You fucking fell from the sky!" He said with a nervous laugh, adjusting his green glasses._

_Loki looked at the man with disbelief. He couldn´t remember the day he arrived to Earth; actually, everything about that incident was very fuzzy for him. He just recalled waking up in the middle of woods, alone, disoriented and confused, and that before passing out again two strange warriors brought him to this camp. He didn´t have a single clue about how he ended up in such a place like Midgard; however, this strange human seemed to have one or two. _

"_After that, my Russian comrades found us." He said, with a bitter smile on his face. "However, they weren´t happy when they realized that under physical coercion the dammed Nazis got a valuable Intel from me. Apparently, I committed treason against the fatherland. They handcuffed me and they bring me here with you…" He told him in a low voice, trembling a little, and moving his eyes in all directions – as if he felt that someone was watching him-. "I mean, what are the odds, eh?" His voice became highly pitched, and he began to laugh viscously again. _

"_Certainly…" Loki agreed, with a big smirk on his face. "What are the odds?..."_

* * *

"So… you don´t understand a word of what I´m saying…" _Kolia_ asked, opening the window to throw his cigarette butt. The forest´s morning cold sneaked into the car, making him shiver, and he hastened to close it again. Loki, still cornered in the other passenger seat, looked blankly at him, hearing his words but not understanding them. Nikolai repeated his question, louder this time and looking at his face. After a moment of hesitation, he slowly shook his head.

The boy scratched his chin, pensive, and turned to look at the small silver box in which he kept his cigarettes. He pulled out another cigarette and handed it to him.

"_Cigarette_." He said in a loud voice. "Can you say _cigarette_?" Loki stayed silent for a while, as if considering the question. Eventually, he dared to take the small filter from the boy´s hand.

"… Cigarette." He repeated, after he eyed the strange object closely.

"Good, very good." Kolia said with a big smile in his face. The boy reached into his goat then, and pulled out a lighter. "Now, you have to ask ´_Got any light?´_ \- Can you say that?" Loki made a fist under his chin, and looked sternly at him, as if he was very concentrated in his new task.

"_Got any… light?_" He finally said, raggedly and in a very low voice. It earned him, however, another smile from Nikolai.

"You got it! - Now, you can make friends in the capital!" The boy came closer to light his cigarette, and then leaned back in his seat again.

Loki frowned at the action, and put the small filter in his mouth, as he had seen many of the other warriors do before. The heated sensation in his throat and the acrid flavor in his mouth didn't seem to please him, though, however, considering his good run of luck, he didn't want to risk his new deal by offending his keepers -much less for something so foolish as reject a small offering-. So he just smiled, and tried to pretend as best as he could that he actually knew what he was doing.

"So… you are from England, eh?" _Kolia_ asked, taking his eyes off the road. "You know, the country of tea and walking canes?" Loki narrowed his eyes at the boy, not fully understanding what he was asking, but he slowly nodded in affirmation.

"And you are not, you know, an android or anything like that, right?" At that question, Loki nearly choked in his cigarette´s smoke, and turned to the boy to vehemently shake his head. A big smirk appeared in Nikolai´s face, and he made triumphant gesture with his right arm. " _Yes_, I win the bet." He murmured, sounding way too pleased with himself.

"But I suspected I was right, anyway. You look way too meaty to be an android." He said after a while, making Loki look worriedly at his arms, maybe thinking that so much time in captivity had made him look flabby and soft.

Before Kolia could ask anything else, however, Berlioz interrupted him, letting him know that they had finally reached their destiny. Then, Loki stuck his head out the window, trying to get a better look of the so-called Blind Spot where the warriors had brought him. It was a small building, of four or five floors, that went unnoticed by its dull gray color and its resemblance to the neighboring structures. Before he could see anything else, however, the Chaika got into the parking lot of the building, and with the exception of the small withe and yellow lights of the other automobiles, everything went black.

* * *

Almost a month without updating; I´m officially the worst. person. ever.

I hope you liked it, though. This last scene was like, that most random thing I have ever written XD. Spalko did not appear in this chapter, but don´t panic! I promise I will write about her soon :D

The next chapter is the last one of Phase 1. Phase two will be more dynamic and would have more characters (most of them OCC, because you would have noticed by now, I love OCC :-)

Bye, Bye. ;D

P.D: I finally have a name for the couple! _SaberFrost_ :-)

P.D.P.D: Nikolai/Kolia = Orlando Bloom. (I wish...)

Mr.Vólkov = Mackenzie Crook.

Got it?


	6. The Black Raven (Epilogue)

**The Sounds of Silence**

**Epilogue**

When Colonel Todorov and Irina Spalko entered the interrogation room, Loki knew that finally everything was over. He closed his eyes briefly, trying to compose himself, and his shoulders hunched slightly. The air he was breathing was light and clean –not polluted by the wetted density the Russian tundra- and his wrists, reddish and sored, were free of their restrains. The only real questions that come to his mind were _What awaited him now? _And _What was he going to do with this new gained freedom?_

At the moment, he couldn´t answer any of those questions.

He stared at the Colonel as he reviewed his file, seated behind a big oak table. The man leaned back in his chair, shaking the gray, tousled mustache over his upper lip, and then leaned forward; he stared back at Loki, and began to talk.

"Dr. Selvig… I have read very carefully your file, and all the information that you have given us, in order to close this deal…" Loki took a deep breath, preparing himself for what was coming.

He had expected this. He had known that this meeting, brief as it was meant to be, was solely intended to fill bureaucratic paperwork. It was going to be a long and boring procedure, but he knew it to be necessary. That is the way of politicians, after all, no matter where they came from. Loki had had enough encounters with this rare species, at least, enough to know how to handle them.

He rubbed absently at his wrists, and slowly turned to look at the Woman, ignoring Colonel Todorov´s rambling. That morning he had been subjected to a series of tests by Dr. Moskvin (Blood and urine tests, ultrasound, and brain scan been the only ones whose purpose he could actually understand) and through all the process, she had stayed by his side, monitoring the exhausting work of the doctors.

Ever since the transfer to the city began, she had become strangely protective towards him –putting an end to the violent methods of interrogation of the other warriors, reassuring him whenever one of the Dr. Moskvin´s tests made him wary or uncomfortable, and providing him the best amenities she could afford, given the circumstances-. He knew she was not doing it out of the goodness of her heart –this was not a woman who believed in sentimentality-, and he was fairly sure that she was not moved by an odd sense of responsibility. He was convinced, nevertheless, that her strange behavior towards him was inspired by curiosity.

The same curiosity that then kept her shinning blue eyes fixed on him, even when he was openly staring back.

"All the facts point out that…" He didn´t want to hear the Colonel´s long, tedious monologue. He just wanted to keep looking at that black expression; at the deep, turbulent blue eyes of that woman, who was so much younger than him, and yet seemed so much older. It was unfair, he thought, that such a beautiful, inscrutable being was to die so soon. She deserved to prevail; became a wise, enlightened woman, a being with the looks of a godness, and with a melodic, steady voice, laden with years of experience; not to grow old and rut in this land of men.

Suddenly, in the most bizarre of all confusions, he wondered if mortality was a contagious disease. And he hated it; he hated it with more vigor and conviction than ever. In the same way he hated that interrogation room, so brightly lit, and the framed diplomas on the white wall, and the shelves full of textbooks that –no matter how much he tried- he just couldn´t read.

He looked out the window, over the Colonel´s shoulder, and he saw a crow perched on the leafy branches of a nearby willow. It was as if the men were chattering in some distant world of which, in that precise moment, he was no longer part. The crow shook his feathers and moved his small head from side to side before turning to look at him. For a moment he thorough that he needed to listen the raven, and he suffered a minor panic attack when considered that it could easily be of Odin´s messengers, or Odin himself in a disguise. The animal shook once again, and opened his black wings to fly away from the three. Loki lowered his gaze, and struggled to pay attention to the Colonel, telling himself that it was an unlikely idea.

"Congratulations, Dr. Selvig!" Todorov said solely, as if saying something of great importance, while shaking his hand. "You are officially a citizen of the Soviet Union!" Then, he handed Loki a folder full of documents, which included a birth certificate and an identity card, both of them fake. Loki cursed under his breath when he realized that he couldn´t even read the new name that this so called _government _had given to him.

A name was something very important to someone like Loki, and to any other resident of the Nine Realms. It was what made him who he was, and at the moment, he felt as if he was becoming a different person. He thought about the raven, and wondered briefly if this was something planned; if he was suffering some type of punishment. He swallowed hard. Suddenly, he didn´t expect to remain Loki Odinson for much longer.

The Colonel said something about probation, home care and insurance payments, about the importance of respecting his visits with his parole officer, and the jurisdiction of other legal powers. Loki couldn´t help but notice that he was being treated as criminal, even though technically he hadn´t done anything wrong in this realm… _yet. _The man started to ramble once again, and realizing that he no longer had any need for continued attention, he stopped listening.

Before heading to the parking lot, where Nikolai was waiting to escort him to his new apartment, he made sure to say a proper goodbye to Irina Spalko. He wished her a farewell and offered her one of his most charming smiles before leaning down to kiss the back of her small, white hand. That slap that hit him in the right cheek for performing such a vulgar, _bourgeois _act became a reddish, painful pleasure in his pale skin during all the way to his new home.

* * *

Well, finally! The epilogue I promised!

I took way to long in writting this, I know. And on top of that is incredibly _short_.

I have to say, lately I don´t have to much time to write, and besides, my laptop just crashed recently and I have to ask my mother for her´s everytime I want to write, and it´s just not comfortable.

Those matters aside, this fanfic would have a continuation, and if anyone is interested in reading it I would post it in Archive of Our Own under the same username ;D


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